"What's that, Natalie? Alan Ford!" And into the room strode Barry Stannard. Natalie's face shone with welcome. "How did you get here?" she cried; "I thought you were arrested!" "Even a murder suspect can get bail if he has money enough," said Barry, "and there were other reasons. They wouldn't swallow my confession whole. But never mind that now; tell me, did you say Alan Ford is coming?" "I did, Barry, dear. I went and got him. And just in time, too, for he was going West at once. But he's staying over for us, and he's coming out here to-morrow morning. Isn't it fine!" "Splendid! You're a trump, Natalie. You know, girl, don't you, why I confessed?" "Of course I do. I was sure you couldn't make the police believe you, and then I knew it would swing back to me. So I had to take desperate measures, and I did." "Barry," said Joyce, "your attempts to get suspicion turned your way, or any way, are too transparent. You scratched up the window frame to make it appear a burglar had entered there, and nobody believed it for a minute." "I know it, I'm no good as a deceiver. But, oh, Natalie, don't think I suspected you, but I knew others would, and did, and I was frantic. And I vowed I did it, in an effort to distract their attention from you. But your going yourself for Ford, clears you in every one's eyes, and now he'll find the man. It was some man who came in--it has to be. There is no other explanation--positively none." "It wasn't Eugene!" whispered Joyce, her face drawn with new apprehension. "Of course it wasn't," said Beatrice, soothingly. "Don't worry over that, Joyce, dear. Mr. Wadsworth has exculpated Mr. Courtenay." "But nothing seems sure," Joyce said, with a sad shake of her head. "Well, it will be sure, once Alan Ford gets here," declared Barry. "I can hardly wait to see him." Alan Ford arrived the next morning. When he entered the Reception Room, his tall, commanding presence seemed to fill the whole room. With perfect courtesy, he greeted Joyce first, and then the others, and finally seated himself, facing the group. Though not to be called handsome, his face was fine and scholarly, and his iron grey hair made him look older than his fifty years. His manner was quiet, but alert, as if no hint or lightest word could escape his attention. "Let us waste no time," he began, "for my business engagements are pressing, and what I do here must be done as quickly as possible. I can promise you nothing, for the accounts I have read of this case make it seem to me that your local workers have done all that could be expected of them. The whole affair is mysterious, but sometimes a new point of view or the opinions of a different mind may lead to something of importance." "You know the main details, then?" asked Barry.